Cold as Life
by Burn Sinister
Summary: Blaise Zabini. Can a whore be taught to love? Slash, death and pain.
1. as cold as life

Author's Notes- I don't own anything. Part of a series featuring Blaise Zabini who I have chosen to be male. Slash. Bad language. Naughty things _will_ happen too so if you don't like that, shoo now.

Blaise.

You beautiful, conceited, bad bitch.

People would think that Malfoy is the Slytherin whore, with his icy pretty-boy looks and charm. After all, he could have anyone he wanted- male, female, Gryffindor, Slytherin. Or maybe Pansy, with her slut's eyes and softly curving figure. People would be wrong. Both of them have their lovers.. sometimes they entwine themselves, their relationships short and fiery and ending in cool, cutting words. Cold as ice, and hot as fire. They have their lovers. But neither of them compare to Blaise Zabini.

He should have been born a girl. His face was as calm and symmetrical as a death mask, surrounded by shoulder-length wings of black hair that light splintered upon like broken glass. The face was that of a girl's, pointed chin and full slut lips never touched by a smile. His eyes burned intensely dark and sucked the light of the world into themselves. He smudged khol around them, darkened until they were twin holes blasted into the pale androgyny of his face. When he made love, the black outlines bled outward until his eyes seemed unnaturally elongated, slanting up to touch that black, feathery hair and pull the rest of his face into shadow.

No-one knew anything much about his family. He was pureblood, of course. He wouldn't have been a true Slytherin if his blood were tainted in any form. Part Veela too, some said. That would account for his delicate features and cool manner. Rich, naturally. He was fairly indistinguishable in class- clever, but not outspoken. It was only in bed he seemed to come alive. Blaise never said no to anyone who desired him. Most of the male population of Slytherin had tasted him at some point, along with half of the other houses and indeed many of the professors. Almost every night the watching moon found a small, pale figure slipping from some classroom or another with his black hair teased and loose around his downturned face, robes slightly askew. He slipped through the shadows avoiding the silvery moonlight pooling through the windows. A few minutes later, another person would follow, lust satiated and fires quenched. Another night in the life of Blaise, the whore of Slytherin. 


	2. poisonpretty little one

Author's Notes- More of the same. Thanks to Phoenix Black for being the first to review *warm glowy feeling* :D

I first started to _notice_ Blaise that fatal summer after the Tournament.

Nothing much seemed to have changed at first. We still had our lessons. Malfoy was still our bitter enemy, his insults as caustic as ever. Snape still hated Gryffindors. Hermione was still top of the class. We still shared Potions with Slytherin. Whatever subtle changes took place after Voldemort's return, we didn't feel aware of them. Maybe the professors were a little more uptight about security. Maybe we were all still a little numb after Cedric's death. Especially me, because I was.. there. I watched him die and dragged his empty shell back with me. I was the one meant to die there at Voldemort's hand.

But I digress.

It was in Potions that I first paid attention to him. He was paired with Malfoy and I with Neville. It was the first lesson back and I was trying desperately hard not to attract Snape's attentions. The first lesson back and it was terribly simple.. a simple potion to relight fires that had burned out. Why we needed it when we had wands, I wasn't sure. I doubted I would ever forget my wand, yet remember to carry a small vial of Pyrotheseum with me.

Phoenix feathers, a tiny pinch ground to golden dust. I sprinkled the precious powder in and the muddy potion turned a soft, oily black. Now there was nothing to do except let it simmer. Neville hovered awkwardly by my side. "Is there anything I can do?" I shook my head. He had good intentions but I had no desire to find myself aflame. He sat down and I wondered if I had offended him. But his friendly, good-natured face seemed purely relieved. Poor Neville.

I looked over to see how Ron was doing and saw he had been set next to Malfoy. Poor Ron. I hoped they weren't doing anything to distract him. He was flushed deep-red from something the icy blonde had said, his hands clumsy as he fumbled with his cauldron trying to ignore the Slytherin. He was always like that when someone embarassed him, but he could be so dexterous when he wasn't being tormented. I had seen him in Care of Magical Creatures, freeing a tiny fairy from the centre of a spider's web without breaking a strand. And now a few malicious words could send him to pieces. His hands quivered as he tried to steady the cauldron and I covered my eyes as I could see him tremble. A second later there was a rush of dark liquid spilling to the floor and a soft _whumph_ as the mixture ignited. Snape bounded over, already admonishing even as Ron tried to put out the flames that licked at his robes. I watched bitterly as Malfoy turned away, laughing, to the person next to him who was apparantly not interested,. A pale hand swept a curtain of hair from over his face and coal-black eyes met mine for a brief second as he turned to Malfoy.

Have you ever felt like you've only just _really_ seen someone for the first time? After years of knowing them, the gradual progression from childish roundness into adulthood isn't seen. You see your friend, your enemy, that girl who knows all the answers in Divination... and yet if you saw them for the first time on the streets, you could fall for them in a heartbeat. That happened to me then.

Short.. a good two inches less than Malfoy who had stopped growing at 5'6. Dark hair, dark eyes and I thought I saw a touch of makeup round there too. Unusual, and I wondered if he was really male. No colour anywhere, but I could find beauty in monochrome, in shadows and light.

"Who was unlucky enough to work with Malfoy?" I asked Neville casually. He looked up from studying a beetle crawling over the scarred desk.

"Oh, isn't he with Blaise?" Neville asked innocently. "I don't really know him," His attention returned to the beetle.

Blaise. My heart fell. Of course I knew that name- everyone did. I had heard it mentioned countless times, seen it written all over the bathroom walls. I was only 13 when I had first seen the legend "Blaise gives killer head!" written in crude black ink. I hadn't understood it then, hadn't known the meaning of the word when Blaise was already renown for his skills in that department. Later I had heard students- mainly older ones- mention him casually, sometimes only as "that Slytherin slut".

My eyes fell upon the Pyrotheseum which threatened to boil over. It was no longer oily black but shot through with deepest red. Fires could be lit again, but could a whore ever learn to love again?

- - - - - - - -

Potions was over mercifully quickly and I headed to the common room, sinking thankfully into the comfortable red cushioned chair. My friends quickly followed my lead. Hermione and Ron were sat a little way apart from us and I smiled knowingly. Hermione could claim to find Ron unbearably childish, and he claimed she was the bossiest and most unbearable person he'd ever met. I personally thought they complimented each other and I would have loved to see them together. Hermione was sat with a heavy book in her arms and her intelligent eyes scanning the tiny text. Ron sat beside her and I smiled as he and Hermione began their usual banter.

"You haven't done that Potions homework, have you?"

"Go away, Hermione,"

"I'm just trying to read. You know, it might actually help if _you_ opened a book every now and then,"

"Why would I do that when you let me copy your homework?"

"Because one day I might just get tired of you riding off my hard work,"

"That will be the day that Voldemort opens a rest home for destitute donkeys,"

"Very true,"

They fell into amiable silence. I smiled and stared blankly at the Quidditch book before me. The Chudley Cannons captain grinned and waved, but I didn't see him there at all. My mind was firmly fixed upon another who I had only just started to notice.

Of all the people I could have fallen for, it was a Slytherin. And of all the Slytherins I could have fallen for, it was a notorious whore and probably an emotional fuck-up. I didn't know _anything_ about the boy except what I had read in graffiti, and that he would probably hate me for the Gryffindor I am. It wasn't that he was male that bothered me. I had known I was bisexual for a long time.. most wizards seemed to be, for some reason. Maybe it was because we didn't have the same silly prejudices as Muggles that we realised sexuality was a fluid thing and could not be easily tied down to one gender. All through Hogwarts I had seen same sex couples wander around together as easily as straight couples. It was his reputation that bothered me. I didn't want cheap sex, although he certainly wouldn't turn me down from what I had heard.

Because the great Harry Potter was still a virgin. Even though I had been dating Ginny on/off for months (nothing serious, just attended the odd dance together) and I had been with one or two others before that, I had never actually had sex. It wasn't that I was a prude, but the other students seemed too afraid to ever touch me. Put me on a pedastal, revere me as some kind of God, fight to be my friend but defile me? Never. I had my "groupies" who sent me Valentine cards and giggled and sent notes in class, but never _once_ did they make a move on me even though it would probably have been the biggest thrill of their lives. And I was too worried to make a move myself- what if they didn't dare turn me down even if they didn't want it? I frowned. 

Besides, why would I want Blaise? I had Ginny. Sweet, beautiful Ginny with clouds of fire-red hair and lustrous deep eyes. Ginny, who could love me with all her heart. I would not spurn her for someone who seemed incapable of love. I shook the thought from my head as she entered the common room, a little shy, a little uncertain as always. The firelight danced in her deep red hair instead of the way it would splinter and break on Blaise's. Her eyes were bright and lively instead of dead, empty holes that sucked in the light of the world. And more importantly, she could love me back.


	3. masturbating in your shadow

Author's Notes- This is coming along rather nicely. I've written quite a bit more, so please do give feedback if you like it. I always review back and it really makes my day to know people pay attention to something I've worked hard on. I hope you're enjoying it.

Disclaimers- Forgot to mention this (bad little me, hmm?) but I own nothing but the plot.

Blaise Zabini.

Even his name sounded enticing, like a rare flower Madam Sprout might mention in passing, or a particularly difficult and deadly potion of Snape's. It didn't take me long to come to a conclusion. I had never even _spoken_ to the boy and I was already hopelessly infatuated with him. With someone who might have an unbearable personality. Someone who was a notorious whore. Someone who might hate me as soon as I open my mouth. A typical teenage crush, then. I smiled faintly. Ron looked at me strangely. I held up the copy of one of his comics I was pretending to read.

  
"It's funny!" I said. Even to myself I sounded mildly retarded.

"That's a catalogue for brooms," He told me gently.

"Yeah, but it's funny.. I mean, who would pay ten galleons for a whore...whore-verly priced cleaning kit?" I gabbled. He raised his eyebrow and turned back to baiting Hermione. I frowned. It was hard to come up with a decent excuse when my mind was full of Blaise. Blaise, Blaise.. I smiled again and noticed more funny looks.

"You look like someone in love!" Lavender teased. 

"Of course I'm not!" I protested. "Who could I possibly be in love with?"

"Er, your girlfriend?" Ron looked faintly murderous and I saw Ginny raise her head from a pile of homework. Soft eyes, not accusing but curious. God, the girl I planned to go to the Christmas Dance with and I had just announced I wasn't in love. I laughed as easily as I could.

"I was joking, Ron. You _all_ know who I love,"

Ginny smiled and my heart contracted again. I loved her so much too. But did I love her in the insanely adoring way she deserved, or was it just a brotherly kind of love? I dropped the comic, or catalogue, or whatever it was. "I'm off to bed," I told my friend abruptly and left.

Sleep didn't come easy. I lay in the privacy of my thick red curtains at the centre of the reassuring warmth surrounded by the light sounds of others breathing and dreaming. The softest red light filtered through, composed of watery weak moonlight strained through velvet curtains, too faint to disturb me. Thoughts of making love in the shadows and red light came to me and I shifted uncomfortably. Blaise's dark, watching stare. Blaise's lithe, thin form- too small for a boy of his age. Blaise's faint, knowing smile as Ron's cauldron tipped fire to the floor below. Well, I certainly wouldn't sleep now. I slipped from my bed and pulled the invisibility cloak from my trunk. I loved this cloak. I could roam the castle freely at night whenever I chose and see anyone I wanted with their guard down, in the way you never really saw them. You could get to know someone like that, without ever speaking a word. It was all written on their face when they thought no-one could see.

I wandered out into the cool, draughty corridors. The portraits all slept now and I felt as insubstantial as a handful of moonlight. Lavender drifted past, her arms around the waist of some handsome Ravenclaw I didn't know. Her eyes were dreamy and unfocused, lost in her happy world with the one she loved. I envied her.

When I finally saw him, I thought I was hallucinating. What were the chances of the one who occupied my thoughts wandering the castle at this time? But it _was_ him, slipping from the door of a classroom in absolute silence. He looked dishevelled and it suited him.. black hair ruffled into waves, robes askew on his narrow shoulders. I stalked him along the corridor, holding my breath as I walked alongside him. I saw his eyes unguarded for once. I watched as his face was alternately illuminated and cast into shadow by the pools of moonlight. He was all planes and angles and I wanted to see him soften and melt into my arms. 

I barely heard the other person slip out of the room, but I glanced back as we neared the end of the corridor. Flint. I frowned. Wasn't he supposed to have left this year? Maybe he had to repeat it, he was stupid enough. Even in the shadowy half-light I could still see the stupid, satisfied grin upon his face. Jealousy rose, bitter and caustic. I hated him for fucking Blaise, but I envied him too. I wanted to see what he looked like when he came, when he joined with someone else. But I wasn't quite perverted enough to follow him and find out. I would find out for myself one day, I hoped.

I watched him gliding along silently all the way back to his common room. His expression was neutral, maybe slightly thoughtful. Not the look of someone who has just enjoyed mind-blowing sex with someone they loved, but he didn't look depressed either. Just.. numb. And blank. Empty of any real emotion. He looked as thought he'd done nothing more than get a glass of water. I wanted to see him happy, though. I wondered what he would look like with a real smile for once. I stood and watched as he entered his common room silently and slipped back into the shadows. I wanted nothing more than to pull him back out with me, into the silvery moonlight.

And I still hadn't spoken a word to him.


	4. lipstick fantasy turn to dust

Author's Notes- I love writing this even if it hasn't attracted huge amounts of attention. Again, reviews are _really_ appreciated, they're the only thing that keeps me writing sometimes. This chapter isn't the end, by any means in case you're wondering.

Oh, and as far as drawing Blaise goes, I did try and failed utterly. I sort of based him on a mixture of people, but he's probably closest to Richey Edwards with longer hair. And probably even more effeminate. Have some Richey-goodness?

http://talek.pixie.nu/main/04/richey.html

http://www.self-injury.net/doyousi/famous/richeyedwards/

I didn't speak to Blaise for the next few Potions lessons. I was happy to watch and adore from a distance. My friends seemed to notice I was growing rather distant. Obsession is a dangerous thing indeed and I wondered if I'd get sucked into those empty dark eyes one day, and forget to come back out. He still didn't know I was alive, but I felt _I_ was beginning to know Blaise. Just from watching his little mannerisms in class and from following him at night. Every night he invariably slipped from the common room and I'd see him enter a classroom on some quiet floor followed by some older student I barely knew. 

It feels so perverted but.. I was always tempted to follow them in there. It was the closest I'd ever get to Blaise and it wasn't like he seemed to have much pride anyway. How would I proposition him, inexperienced virgin I still was? Sometimes when the other student left first, I'd slip in and watch Blaise sit there in the abandoned room. He liked to smoke and he looked unearthly wreathed in plumes of grey smoke with a cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers, the nails painted a chipped, shiny black. He always looked reflective after these night activities. I tried to look into his eyes to see if there was any lingering sadness or insecurity (why else would he give himself away so easily?) and always there was the same blankness. Like he didn't care about anything that had just passed. It scared me, and it fascinated me at the same time. The weeks went on. 

- - - - - - - 

And then Christmas drew closer. The world outside froze and died. I found a unicorn by the shores of the lake one day. It looked even more beautiful dead. The ice had frozen its mane into solid glass whorls and even glazed over the empty dark eyes. Hagrid cried when he found me stood by it and his tears had frozen too, by the time we walked back to his cabin. Lavender killed herself two days later. We never found out why she did it, but she simply waded into the lake, breaking the ice before herself with her wand. It formed almost as quickly behind her. By the time the waters closed over her head, the hypothermia would have already began creeping through her and shutting down her internal workings. The professors stopped lessons for two days. Malfoy stopped smirking so much. Snape actually bit his lip and said nothing when Neville melted away most of his own robes in class one day. Then the preparations for the Christmas Dance took over. I saw Ron kissing Hermione but refrained from teasing them. They'd tell me when they were ready. I lost my virginity to Ginny one beautiful winter's night, sinking into her cinnamon-scented embrace with a sense of coming home. Blaise began to fade into the distance. Life went on.


	5. be my heroin

The night of the dance came. Lavender's boyfriend decided not to go out of respect to her memory although almost all of us had began to forget about her. Tiny details. I couldn't remember the exact colour of her hair any more and her face was beginning to lose the personal touches that had been etched in my memory. Give it another six months and she'd be as anonymous as anyone else. I probably wouldn't recognise her if her corpse waltzed past me on the street, hair still frozen solid from the lake. That's how life goes, isn't it? You move on.

The night was frosty and colder than ever. Hagrid was kept busy freeing tiny songbirds from the branches of trees where they had frozen to the wood. His defreezing charms often came too late to see them and he cried as bitterly over the death of a sparrow as he had done over the death of Lavender. It wasn't that he was hard-hearted about Lavender, he just didn't value _her_ life above the life of any other creature. That's just the way Hagrid was.

I wondered why the songbirds hadn't simply flown away from this hostile environment. Maybe there were some things you couldn't leave, even if they would kill you eventually. I wasn't really in the mood for the dance either. I kept to my plain green dress robes and tried in vain to flatter my wild dark hair. Didn't see that it mattered. Ginny would love me if I turned up with half of my face melted away from a Potions accident. She was that type.

Hermione was the first girl to emerge from their room. Her hair wasn't straightened, but fell in loose, sleek waves over her golden shoulders. Her robes were cut simply to show her gentle curves and the deep wine-red brought out the depths of her intelligent gaze. A simple touch of mascara, a dusting of gold phoenix dust around her eyes. She was too beautiful to be a date for Ron but she didn't care about things like that. Just like Ginny. "You look nice," Ron muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes and blushing intensely. She smiled. "Thank you," she said quietly. 

"Of course, this is just because Fleur can't make it, ya know..?" Ron said in his typically gauche way, loud enough for the whole common room to hear.

"And because Krum's spending Christmas with his parents. Right," Hermione said firmly. They both looked at each other with a secretive expression I couldn't read. I remembered the kiss I had seen them share and smirked myself. One day, they'd come out about their relationship. And I hoped them the best. 

"Harry?" Hermione was trying to catch my attention. "Ginny should be along soon- I helped her with her hair and she should be ready any minute. Ok if Ron and I go and get us a table?"

"Absolutely fine," I nodded and waited. Couples filtered through the room, all as brightly coloured and beautiful as the frozen songbirds outside. Then I saw her, and stood.

Ginny, a pure and lovely vision in simple gold robes that flattered her creamy skin and fire-blessed hair. Her figure was slight and straight with hints of curves to come showing beneath her loose clothes. She could have been a vision of a dark sorceress, a Slytherin temptress, but for the slight innocence that still showed in the way she shyly hid her exposed skin with a shawl. Her smile was a little unsure and I reached out to her.

"Ginny, you look beautiful," I said simply. She smiled and took my arm. "Shall we?" I asked as I lead her on towards the hall.

It was beautiful there. The sky was a steely gray but the candle lights softened it. The Gryffindor lion flaunted rampant above all the other banners. In Lavender's memory, I supposed. It was nice to see the Slytherins scowling anyway. Blaise popped back into my head, a faint reminder after a long absense. Ah yes. I scanned the sea of green and silver. Crabbe and Goyle appeared to be with each other- well, I supposed they couldn't find any other dates. Draco was with a pretty girl I didn't know the name of. Her burgundy hair was held up with a simple snake-shaped pin and her eyes were a clear violet. She looked surprisingly innocent for a Slytherin, but I remembered there were many other fine qualities that could put one into that house. Pansy was with Millicent and they looked surprisingly close. I had never seen Pansy with a female lover before and it surprised me. They looked good together. Millicent's once-heavy face was light and smiling and her dress robes didn't look quite so tent-like on her now.

Blaise was in the shadows, sat next to Marcus Flint, looking rather sulky. I should have guessed they'd end up together. Marcus's arm around Blaise's thin shoulders and a rather satisfied smirk on his troll-like face. It doesn't bother me any more, I reminded myself. If Blaise wants to sleep around.. well, who am I to stop him? He barely even knew I was alive anyway.

"Harry?" I turned, feeling a light tug on my arm. Ginny smiled up at me. "Shall we sit with Ron and Hermione?" She asked. I nodded my assent and followed her to the Gryffindor table where everyone was smiling and bathed in the golden radiance from the banners above. _This is my life, here. With Ginny and Ron and Herminone, away from Slytherin. So why does it feel like something's missing?_

The dance went on. There was a lingering alcoholic taste in the drinks and I wondered what they had put in to it. I thought Dumbledore disliked alcohol? Then I saw Seamus slip a flask under his cloak, a satisfied smile on his face. Well, who would have thought it of him? I sipped at it hesitantly and felt a warm glow seeping through me.

__

"You like?" Neville mouthed.

__

"Yes," I whispered back and drained the heated cup. The faintest blurring touched the crowds at the corners of my vision and I smiled. This was perfect, erase everything outside of my little world and take Blaise with those watching eyes with it. Ginny turned to me after my third glass and her eyes were the only steady thing in the swimming gold light. The centre of the universe, the world and all its people swimming around her in her fire-tinged hair. I shook my head. I had drank far too much.

Not as much as Neville though. I watched as he stood to dance with a far-too-elongated grin across his face and vaguely realised something bad was going to happen. My mind was pleasantly numb though, too numb for the shock of Neville hitting the floor to register until I heard the music grind to a halt.

Neville stood, a reddish splatter across his robes and I saw crimson on his hand, a frail glass stem protruding from it like the offshoot of some strange fruit. Blood on the dancefloor, blood on his injured hand, blood in the air as he shrieked and tried to pull out the glass. McGonogall was there in an instant, her concern giving way to anger as she examined the liquid. Her voice was as cold as the ice that coated the world outside when she spoke.

"There is alcohol in this drink,"

"I didn't know!" Neville sobbed, clutching his injured hand. Madam Pomfrey frowned and tried to lead him away. "I swear, I didn't know!"

McGonogall frowned. "Then who, exactly, thought it would be funny to do something so stupid and irresponsible?" 

Poor Neville, as stupid as always, the one to suffer when someone else went wrong. She knew he wouldn't get drunk on purpose- we all did. But no-one thought to warn him and now it looked like we'd all get in trouble. Seamus was ashen-faced with remorse.. and fear. We could all see how it would look when he was blamed for spiking the drinks. And he was my friend.

A hazy movement caught my eye. Flint, slipping a flask of his own discreetly under his robes. I didn't stop to think. I bounded up from my seat before Seamus could own up. "Marcus Flint!"

The accusation sounded hollow and empty and I waited for McGonogall to ask me why I was lying. She didn't. I watch her glide across the floor as Neville was lead away, watched all eyes turn to Flint who was frozen in place. 

  
"The alcohol, Marcus, if you will?" Flint shook his head frantically. Oh, he looked perfect, so guilty and worried.

"Wasn't me, Professor," He stuttered. Blaise looked bored as always.

"Accio flask!" I watched as the small container floated from under his robes. Should I be feeling remorse? I wondered, as he too was taken from the dance. He _had_ been drinking but no-one except himself (and maybe one or two friends) had touched it. I shrugged. He deserved it.

The dance continued. Couples began slipping away discreetly. Ginny touched her forehead delicately and complained of a headache. Poor girl. Hermione lead her away after we shared a last, midnight kiss. Her mouth tasted sweetly of peach schnapps and strawberry wine and I wondered dizzily what Seamus had given us. The hall steadied itself and after a while I bored of the couples. Ron and Hermione explained they had to go and talk to "someone" and left. I wanted fresh air, but I didn't feel like going outside and risking meeting those two embracing in the silver frost somewhere. There was one place I always went at times like this though.

An old tower, once used for sleeping exchange students and guests. Not too far from the great hall, up the silently spiraling staircases and through abandoned corridors (the tower was empty at night and indeed most days). Within five minutes you came out on the top floor. Through a discreet wooden door marked "Cleaner's" (but no cleaner had ever been there, the sad remains of a once powerful locking charm still lingered and I wondered who had broken it) and out you came onto the very roof, above all of Hogwarts. The stars hung low and heavy in the dark-velvet sky. A ledge ran around three sides and the other was open to the bitter wind that cut through. A tiny shelter had been built there, a sad thing of worn stone. I had thought this my own private place for as long as I could remember.

But of course, there _was_ someone there, with grey smoke wrapping around his shrouded face and black robes pulled around his slight form. He sat casually on the edge of the great drop, perched on the wide ledge without seeming to notice the strong night wind that cut through the air. The faint scent of smoke and salty air mingled in the wind and brought tears to my eyes.

"Blaise?"

He didn't answer, but the cigarette twitched slightly. I noticed how the cuffs of his robes fell over his small hands, lost in black material. I hadn't followed him for days and with a rush, all those secret nights came flooding back. Like a reformed junkie coming back to my drug. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and the addiction grow stronger. I wanted to just sit there and drink in the sight of him until dawn. But there was no invisibility cloak this time, no defence between us. I had to try though. I had to know.

I sat casually in front of him. His eyes were turned away, staring into the void before us. I wondered how long it would take to fall from here. Perhaps the wind might blow you into an ornamental weather vane and impale you there, perhaps it might blow you back into a window or throw you against the stone wall. One slip and we'd be gone, falling into a void with plenty of time to scream

"It wasn't us, you know," Blaise looked up at last. Tiny purplish lights pricked in his dark eyes and I wondered if they were really a very dark violet.

"I know," I confessed. His expression was as neutral and unreadable as ever. "Are you angry with me?"

"Why would I be?" A dark eyebrow quirked as he looked at me sideways. "A Slytherin would have done _exactly_ the same in your position,"

"Yeah.. well, sorry," I had an urge to hurt him for some reason. "I guess I spoiled your night, hmm?"

"How do you mean, Potter?"

"Marcus. Detention. You not getting any tonight. I know what you're like," Rather more venomous than I wanted. He seemed to bring out an angry side to me.

"..Doesn't everyone?" There was no self-pity in that statement. We sat in silence, but it felt rather comfortable even with the barbed insults. "Anyway, it's not like Marcus _owns_ me. I'm free to be with whoever I want,"

"Nice to see you're the loyal type," I wondered if the sad, thin traces of alcohol in my bloodstream gave me the courage to carry on. "So, do you come here often?"

If he'd been muggle-born, he'd have laughed at me. Possibly not the most original chat-up line, but I meant it quite genuinely rather than as a come-on. I had came here often on solitary nights when my thoughts needed clearing and I wanted to know if he'd sat and reflected where I did, to relax or to have his thoughts frozen by the bitter wind. I wanted to know if a pale shadowy ghost of his presence had still lingered here.

"Sometimes," winter-cool voice, of iced over lakes and songbirds frozen to the core.

"Me too," A pause "So you aren't in a real relationship then?" How subtle. Potter, you astonish yourself.

"We fuck around. That's supposed to be it," Blaise replied in his usual, neutral tone. Gods, it made it so hard to read his emotions.

"Possessive type, is he?"

"Why are you so interested? And yes, he is,"

"I've been watching you for a long time,"

"...Oh," A silence. "You... _want_ something, Potter?" Empty dark eyes suddenly smouldering in the thin silvery light, like live coals. The end of my wand sparked into golden light. I wanted to see him properly by a light less deceitful than moon and stars. It illuminated his face and cast shadows under his effeminate features. Dark-red, sticky lipstick the shade of a cherry lollipop. Liquid-black lined eyes. The purple specks were deeper than I had though, the colour of bruises dancing in his eyes. A smile that looked decidedly dangerous. I pushed aside a strand of black silky hair and was ashamed to feel my hand tremble. His smouldering dark gaze tilted up at me. Did I really want this? Ginny's plaintative gaze flickered for the merest second and then was extinguished as I leaned forward and gently touched his cold, cool lips.

I tasted ice, a bitter lingering of alcohol, ashes and faintly salty tears. There was something chemical about it, the drugs that Blaise was rumoured to live on, making up his own unique taste. You could tell a lot about someone from a kiss. Ginny tasted of spices and honey and sticky toffee, a sprinkle of fiery cinnamon. Kissing her was comforting, her sweet soul seeping into your mouth. Kissing Blaise was every bit as comforting as deep-throating a loaded gun or kissing a poisoned blade, and every bit as intoxicating as heroin. I explored deeper and felt a decidedly more expert tongue than Ginny's dance with mine. He felt strangely brittle, like holding an statue of glass, or ice. I ran my hands over his angled shoulders and through soft, aniseed-scented hair, around a too-small waist. His own hands were roaming over me with an expert touch, sliding under my robes and teasing my skin with his icy fingertips. My breathing sounded clumbsy and laboured and I felt his lips quirk in a slight smile. Heat rushed through me and I crushed his slight figure to me, felt him melting and reshaping as we fitted into each other's angles. Cold hands stealing under my robes already impatient with foreplay. I wanted it.. wanted nothing more than to lose myself in his icy beauty. But then I felt myself pull back. If I wanted a quick fuck I'd have got it long ago.. when we slept together, it would be under _my_ rules and when I knew he wanted more than this

Blaise pulled back, dark eyes confused and a little angry. "What's wrong, Potter? Can't get it up?"

"Just.. not yet," I tried to put my arm around him, but he shrugged it off impatiently. "I do want you, of course I do. I have done for so long.. but it's not right yet,"

He looked furious now. "This could be your last chance, Potter. I don't have any trouble finding someone to fuck me,"

"Blaise.. you're beautiful, but you have issues," I bit my lip anxiously. He wouldn't thank me for saying this. "You sleep around, you do drugs.. when we have sex, I want to know that you actually.. well, do it because you like me. Not just because I'm there, or-"

"Forget it, Potter," He spat back and stood. "There won't _be_ another chance. Goodbye,"

"Where are you going?" I called. My voice trembled in the bitterly cold night air.

His answer drifted back to me as he stormed down the stairs. "To see if Flint's escaped from McGonogall yet!"

I pulled my knees up to my chest and sat thoughtfully. I wanted to chase him, touch him, take him.. everything that he wanted, I wanted to. But the way he acted just seemed to me like there was something wrong, under his surface. I wanted to get below that and see what poison lay beneath.. there was something not quite right about Blaise Zabini. And I knew there was some connection then, under the cool disinterested stars. Something perhaps that he'd prefer to running back to Flint, the over-possessive Flint who treated him like a particularly expensive toy. I wanted Blaise but I wanted to heal him too.

I was sat there for a long time before I realised I had forgotten all about Ginny and how she fitted into it. 


	6. he steals away my last breath

Author's Notes- Thank you all very much for reviewing, it cheers me up so incredibly much. This thing is practically writing itself now.  
  
Disclaimer's- Don't own nothin'.  
  
  
  
I woke the next day with a lingering trace of Blaise's lips in my mouth. Ice, and ashes, and salty tears. Aniseed from the bitter absinthe the Slytherins drank like lemonade. Alcohol, and the bitter taste of all the chemicals he had swallowed or shot up that made up his lovely corrupt self. Nothing could be further away from Ginny, and at the reminder of her a sick headache throbbed at my temples. Sick at the thought of lying to her, sick at the thought of hurting her.  
  
I decided to skip Transfiguration. McGonogall would be furious but I didn't think I could look Ron in the eye knowing I had gone behind his sister's back for the school whore. I wandered up to the Owlrey, a faint idea already in my head. Hedwig appeared with a soft rustle of feathers and clicked her beak. "Not today," I said, ruffling her soft feathers affectionately. "Can't risk you being recognised,"  
  
I called a tiny black owl that looked rather bored. It fluttered down eagerly and sat on my finger, preening. I scrawled a hasty note with my free hand and tied it to its leg. "Blaise Zabini," I told the owl. "Try to catch him alone. It's very important,"  
  
The owl looked surprised at being asked to deliver a message to someone so close, but took off obediently. I hoped it wouldn't deliver the message in front of Malfoy and company, and I winced picturing half of Slytherin reading it. Blaise probably wouldn't give a shit if they thought I was screwing him, unless Flint was more possessive than I thought. But I cared.. more for Ginny than myself. The note was brief, and not too revealing  
  
"Blaise, I wasn't just looking for a quick fuck last night. Can you meet me, as soon as possible? Harry"  
  
I headed off to the tower top again. It seemed the best place to be when I wanted to avoid people. But I had barely reached the top when the owl reappeared, hooting indignantly as the cool wind buffetted it mercilessly. I reached over the wall that encircled the tower top and caught it. It tried to fly off sneakily as I removed the message and I held it tighter.  
  
"One last message," I promised, and received a hard nip for my trouble. I unrolled the parchment and read.  
  
"I'm free now, Blaise"  
  
Ok, so he wasn't into romantic letters. Hey, I was lucky he could manage that- judging by Crabble and Goyle, many of the Slytherins borderlined illiterate. I scribbled my reply hastily. The wind caught the wet ink and fanned it out like black tear tracks.  
  
"Meet me at the tower. As soon as you can, Harry"  
  
The owl flew off with my message as though its tail feathes were on fire. I watched it as it was immediately swept from sight and huddled into my robes. The steely sky looked over soberly. 'Potter, you're a fool,' I reminded myself as a bad case of first-date nerves shot through me. I felt as jittery as I had done when I first asked Cho Chang to that ball last year. "I could really do with some alcohol," I murmured out loud.  
  
"Promise you won't tell McGonogall though?" I whirled round and Blaise was standing there with a faintly amused smile across his deathmask-calm features. He offered me a small bottle with a pale green liquid swirling in it. Absinthe. I swallowed a shot or two and felt greenfire blazing to my core. He reclaimed it and eyed me in that vaguely dangerous way.  
  
"Changed your mind about something, Potter?" He asked. I felt a smirk twisting my features. He brought out the Slytherin in me, he really did.  
  
"Maybe. Did you manage to find Flint last night, or did we have to settle for Filch again? I hear he's very fond of those manacles he has,"  
  
Dark eyes blazed black fire at me, but he seemed to prefer this banter to when I turned psychoanalyist on him.  
  
"I found Flint alright. Blind drunk and pissed off at a certain Gryffindor," His eyes slanted up at me and an almost coquettish smile crossed his face. "I wonder how much angrier he'd be if he knew.. everything?"  
  
I took the alcohol from him again and downed another shot. "Don't try to threaten me Blaise. You wanted it more than I did,"  
  
"That's true," He replied moodily and kicked a stone over the edge. There was absolute silence and he glanced over the edge.  
  
"Hufflepuff take Quidditch down there. Five Galleons says I can land another on Justin's curly little head,"  
  
"How Slytherin of you," I raised an eyebrow and crossed over to where he stood. He turned away and leaned over the stone wall that ran three- quarters of the way around the tower. I perched next to him. He didn't stir, until I caught a glimpse of purple-black across his wrist and grabbed it.  
  
"How did you get that?" I asked, revealing a rather sore looking bruise. Older ones dotted around it, a bracelet of discolour. Blaise flinched instinctively.  
  
"You work it out, Potter," He spat. Bracelet shaped.. oh. Handcuffs? I raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Why don't you heal these?" I asked, puzzled.  
  
"What's the point of giving me bruises if they're gone by the next day?" He asked. His voice had run cold again. Any spite had gone. It was useless trying to talk when he froze up like that. So Flint was an abusive bastard. Blaise would probably join a convent before he'd admit if he was less than happy with his sex life. Besides, everyone knew Blaise liked it rough. But still.. I traced some of the bruises as gently as I could.  
  
"Why do you like this?" I asked him.  
  
He shrugged, the sharp lines of his shoulders jagged under black robes. Not feeling very eloquent then. I touched his hair and ran a finger over the edge of a cheekbone. Blaise seemed uncomfortable, but didn't move away. "I do like you," I said reassuringly and got my usual purple-black glare for daring to care about him.  
  
"Really," I continued insistently, turning Blaise to face me. "But I don't want to have sex with you. Not yet," He scowled furiously. Honestly, it was like telling Dudley that Christmas had been cancelled.  
  
"Can we just talk?" I asked slowly. He wasn't exactly talking much. A slow nod. Well, it was certainly a start.  
  
"So tell me about yourself," I settled back against the stone wall and reached out. He reluctantly sat down besides me and I slid my arm around his shoulders.  
  
"Why don't you start?" He asked, a little moodily.  
  
"I imagine that everyone in the wizarding world already knows my life story, past relationships and taste in socks," I replied dryly. "There's probably not much else I could say,"  
  
"That's true," A pause. "Where do I start?"  
  
"The beginning would be lovely,"  
  
"You want to hear about my early childhood traumas? I believe Goyle almost blinded me with a toy broomstick when I was three,"  
  
"Yep. Off you go," I pulled him a little closer. After a pause he lay his head against my shoulder and began.  
  
"I suppose you already guessed my parents are Death Eaters," He started. "And I'm assuming you aren't going to trot off to Dumbledore with that information. He probably knows anyway," I shook my head.  
  
"Umm.. I was down to attend Beauxbatons- my mother is French and thought it better than Hogwarts. I grew up in the North, quite near Malfoy Manor. I've known him all my life," He smiled a little. "Malfoy still needs a nightlight, but if you must use that against him, it didn't come from me,"  
  
"Any other interesting Slytherin facts?" I asked, interested.  
  
"Goyle's pet cat is called Binky and he won't go anywhere without her. Spent three days sat with her in the Infirmary once when Crabbe accidentally stood on her tail and broke it. They didn't speak for weeks,"  
  
I smiled, imaging the troll-like Goyle attached to his pet kitty.  
  
"And Pansy is secretly addicted to Eastenders ever since she spent a week by herself in London and discovered the world of Muggle TV. I believe she found a way to play her favourite programmes using a magical projector,"  
  
"Aren't Slytherins supposed to hate anything Muggle-related?"  
  
"Not really. We aren't all as evil as you think. Many of us aren't even interested in following Voldemort,"  
  
"But you always look down on other Houses. And what about Malfoy and his vendetta against Mudbloods?"  
  
Blaise considered. "We do have different standards. Inter-House loyalty is far more prized than being amicable towards others. Malfoy.. well, he's a little extreme. If you ever saw what his home life is like you might understand why,"  
  
"Tell me," I demanded. Blaise looked away.  
  
"We keep each other's secrets. The nightlight, Binky, Pansy's soap opera obsession.. well, that's nothing important. But there are some things we just don't share. Like I said, we are loyal to each other,"  
  
"Sorry," I hugged him lightly. "So why did you get together with Flint? Do you actually like him?"  
  
"I still don't see what it has to do with you," He complained.  
  
"So..?" I prompted again.  
  
"Of course I don't like him. He reminds me of a bloody troll," Blaise replied honestly. "He likes me well enough though. And he's too stupid to know if I sleep around a bit,"  
  
"You'll stay with anyone as long as they like you, are willing to fuck you through the floor on a daily basis and aren't clever enough to realise that you're sleeping with everyone else in the House as soon as they turn their back?" My voice is rather sharp. I can't help it. If I can't achieve my goals with kindness, I'll burn through his defences with acid.  
  
Burning black eyes, never knew a colour so dark could look so caustic.  
  
"Don't tell me how to live my life, Potter. I've managed perfectly well without your wonderful advice until now,"  
  
"You're a complete mess,"  
  
I still don't know how we went from that to kissing. Perhaps I kissed him to shut him up before he retaliated. Maybe he was just horny. I do know we were there for hours. It started as a battle for dominance, kissing so aggressively we drew blood. I dimly remembered Blaise laying my back open with rows of raw scratches, and me pushing him into the stone floor under my greater weight in retaliation. Pain suited him. Blood trickling over pale skin, lips bruised and sore, pinned under me and loving it. It was almost an hour before the kisses turned gentle and more intimate. Kissing away blood. Softer, lingering caresses. It seemed to go on forever. It wasn't until Hedwig appeared and hooted indignantly that we were interrupted. I pulled myself away reluctantly and read the message.  
  
"Harry, where on earth are you? You've missed every lesson and no-one knows where you went. Please tell me you're alive, Love, Ginny,"  
  
"Shit," I dropped the letter and watched it burn up in a hot red flash. "I've got to go,"  
  
"The Weasley spawn wants her puppy back?" Blaise stood in one fluid motion. "I'd better get back,"  
  
"What excuse can I give?" I asked frantically.  
  
Blaise shrugged. "Personally, I'm going to say I was having a smoke round the back of the Quidditch fields. But I suppose you've got a reputation to uphold. Say you were off hunting Voldemort," He smirked. "Good luck, Potter. I'll see you around,"  
  
"Yeah.." I smiled and let him go. I'd have to see if he'd come back to me.  
  
He did. We met again that night. And the night after. Then there was a quick hour we spent in the Gryffindor stands at the Quidditch fields. Once I even sneaked into the Slytherin common room and we kissed under the invisibility cloak whilst Flint sat doing his homework only a few feet away. It was the most thrilling and possibly stupidest thing I'd ever done- if Flint had found out, I'd have been dismembered slowly and painfully.  
  
And although I still refused to have sex, we got a little closer every day. We talked. He still refused to stay celibate- I knew he was sleeping around still, but even being this close to him was better than nothing. We experimented of course- I tried to bring him pleasure in every way I knew. But no sex. Not until I knew he wanted to be with me and not just anyone who'd have him. And we were getting close.. so very close.  
  
I met Malka Rownbliss one day. I didn't know that was her name then. I only recognised her as the tall Slytherin girl with the clear violet eyes and long sleek hair. Burgundy slashed through with scarlet, like a mixture of old and new bloodstains. She cornered me one day between Potions and History of Magic, pulled me into an alcove. Her nails were a deep red and bit into my wrist as I tried to pull back. "Shh!" She whispered fiercely and dragged me into the shadows. There was a faintly threatening look on her usual serene features and a pale silver wand in her hand.  
  
"What do you want with Blaise?" She demanded. It took me by surprise. I thought no-one had seen us, ever. Could she be jealous? But I had never seen Blaise with a female before. I frowned. This was awkward. Her wand sparked tiny black flames as she waited for my answer. Perhaps I'd better be honest.  
  
"I think I love him," I replied weakly and waited for her mocking laughter. It didn't come. She lowered her wand.  
  
"What about Ginny?" Her eyes were calm again, but undeniably curious. "How does she fit into this,"  
  
"I don't know," I said truthfully. "I don't want to see her hurt, but I really do think I love Blaise. Can I ask how you know, and why you're interested?"  
  
"Blaise is probably my closest friend here," She smiled. "I transferred from Beauxbatons last year and didn't know anyone. We talked a lot- girly stuff, you know, and I noticed recently that he's been acting rather strange. I'm a girl- I can tell when my friend is falling for someone. And you've been looking like a lovestruck puppy in Potions,"  
  
"Oh," I hoped no-one else had realised that. "Do you think there's any chance that Blaise and I can.. well, you know, actually have a proper relationship?"  
  
Her eyes went indigo-dark as though a shadow fell over her pretty face. "He's still sleeping with Flint and co, I know. But I hope he does settle down with you- he's my friend but I can see that he has issues with the whole sex thing. If you can help him, I can be your best friend. If you hurt him, I can be your worst enemy," Her eyes glittered dangerously. I nodded slowly and turned to leave.  
  
"Oh, and Harry?" I turned back. She pushed her sleek hair back and faced me.  
  
"Don't be too surprised if he pushes you away at first,"  
  
I left. 


	7. smoulder

Author's Notes- Only another three or four chapters to go. Woo. Thanks for reviews btw, I love you all.  
  
  
  
Spring came slowly. Two more months of slowly getting to know Blaise and feeling steadily more guilty about Ginny who never suspected a thing. She was far too good for someone like me. The Boy Who Lived was a flawed hero.  
  
Quidditch practise. The Slytherins continued to persecute us and take over the pitch when we reserved it for practise. It was on one such occasion, a beautiful but frosty March morning when Flint managed to knock out Angela and impale me in one idiotic movement.  
  
It was so stupid. Swerving into our path as I flew below Angela. I never really knew what happened until I was falling through the clear, ice-cool air which froze me to the core as it stole through my lungs. Idiotically, the only thing in my mind was what a beautiful day it was, even as it swam into a bright, cool blur of pale blue sky and watery sun.  
  
I hit the ground and seconds later Angela landed. There was the worst feeling imaginable as something splintered and broke inside my shoulder, driven clear through into the ground. Weirdly, the pain didn't really register as I sat up, not until I saw what looked like half a broomstick protruding in splinters from my shoulder. Angela was struggling to her feet, but as soon as she saw me she sat straight back down again. It wasn't the worst injury I'd received but it certainly looked terrible. Madam Hooch was there a second later, her face dead white. I was beginning to feel the first pains, but a weird dull ache rather than the sheer agony I'd have thought possible. A few drops of blood melted the iced grass and for the first time I saw numerous tiny scratches over my skin from the frozen blades. Looked like a night in the infirmary ward for me. I think I passed out somewhere between the fields and the castle.  
  
I woke up some time later with a slight throbbing pain in the area. I sat up abruptly and looked in the mirror. Not too bad. There was a faint pink circle, a small dent showing where the hole had been. It would be gone by morning and I judged it about 8pm. Perhaps I could go back to the dormitory. I dressed quickly and began setting off to find Madam Pomfrey.  
  
Just as I reached the door, I heard voices outside it, low but clearly furious.  
  
"Not again, Blaise. What's the point me even treating you? You'll have picked up something new next week,"  
  
Monotone as always, his reply came back as I peered round the door's edge. He looked rather moody. What was wrong with him now?  
  
"Because if you don't treat me, you know what will happen,"  
  
"Yes," She sighed. "I'll have to treat another twenty students for the same thing by the time the month's out. Why can't you at least ask them to use protection?"  
  
Silence, and a slight shrug. Madam Pomfrey sighed. "I'll go get you something for it. Wait here please- I'll have to ask Professor Snape for some more potion,"  
  
As soon as she was gone I slipped from behind the door. Blaise looked startled to see me.  
  
"What were you talking about?" I demanded, suddenly worried he was seriously ill.  
  
"We were discussing my lovely case of the clap, Potter. Want to know any more about my STDs?"  
  
"Oh," I felt very tired. "Blaise, will you ever stop sleeping around?"  
  
"Maybe if you stop being so damn frigid," He replied smoothly. Ouch.  
  
"I want to know you're sleeping with me for the right reasons," I explained.  
  
"I love you and want to have your babies. Can we have sex now?"  
  
"I have no desire to catch something that will make my genitals wither up and die," I smiled sweetly. Blaise looked moderately amused.  
  
"Then I guess I'll continue shagging my way through Ravenclaw. Did you know Percy Weasley enjoyed roleplaying as a professor?"  
  
"No. Thanks for that, though. It will make visiting his family so much more awkward. I really hate you, you know,"  
  
"But you want me, though," Blaise replied and smiled, as sweetly as poisoned candy. I did want him. So very much.  
  
"Not just for sex. I want to be with you, for real," I felt rather like I was reciting lines from a bad romance novel.  
  
"That's sweet. Notice my utter lack of belief," Blaise looked sceptical. "I can see why you'd prefer me over the Weasley girl,"  
  
Low self esteem? I'd always thought he seemed quite self-assured. I frowned.  
  
"I loved Ginny. I still do love her. But I'm not in love with her any more. There's a difference," It was true. Ginny was as sweet and affectionate as ever, but I loved her only for the adorable person she was. I didn't feel any particular excitement at the thought of her. She... she bored me. And though it was the hardest thing I could do to admit that to myself, it was true. I adored her, for she was a truly lovely person, but there was no thrill when I conjured up her image, no rush of blood coursing through me when she smiled.  
  
"What can I do to prove that I love you?" I asked finally. Blaise looked thoughtful.  
  
"Stop being such a coward. Tell Ginny it's over,"  
  
I felt sick. I'd known for a long time I needed to tell her, and it got harder each day that passed.  
  
"Would you stop sleeping around if I gave up Ginny? Be in a proper relationship with me?"  
  
He nodded slowly. Losing Ginny. I couldn't stand the thought of seeing her hurt. But this was what I wanted. I felt a slight rush of excitement at something so long forbidden coming to me at last.  
  
"I'll do it," I said finally. "Tonight. I'll meet you outside, by the lake. And you've got to tell Flint you're leaving him too,"  
  
"Done," Blaise's smile was unreadable, and as cold and empty as ever. 


	8. watching him fall

Author's Notes- Ah, my favourite chapter :D. This isn't the end.  
  
  
  
I went to find her straight away. The common room was empty except for Ginny. Her small frame was curled up in an oversized chair in the soft golden light that always seemed to cling to her. Ginny was all fire to Blaise's ice. But ice could burn just as intensely as fire, and it was Blaise who had branded my heart so deeply. I would always love Ginny for the sweet-natured girl she was. But I could never live a lie.  
  
"Ginny?" I whispered softly. Her eyes were closed.  
  
"Harry!" Her eyelids flickered open instantly at my voice and I watched a smile light up her face. My heart twisted within me. She was so lovely, so luminous. I hated to see her hurt. But it had to be done. I pulled away as she reached up with her small hands. She looked puzzled. "I was waiting for you.." She said softly.  
  
"Ginny... I need to speak to you," I saw the first flicker of doubt in her chestnut eyes.  
  
"I think we should break up,"  
  
No words had ever sounded so final and I watched the light fade from her face. She looked like a small, scared child.  
  
"Harry.. why?" She asked slowly. I touched my hand to hers gently.  
  
"I've fallen for someone else. Ginny, I'm sorry. I really am. I will always love you for the person you are, but he needs me.." I turned half-away and stared into the shadows of the common room. There was a long silence. When I turned back, her pain-filled eyes cut straight through me but I had to persist. Blaise's ultimatum ringing in my head.  
  
"...Who is it?" She asked quietly.  
  
"Blaise Zabini,"  
  
A flicker of recognition and she nodded slowly. "Harry.. I would never tell you who to be with. But even I know what Blaise is like.. he's not the type to fall in love with. He'll break your heart, Harry. You don't deserve that. You're too good, too-"  
  
I stopped her gently. "Ginny, *you* are too good to ever be hurt by anyone. I'm really sorry about all of this. You're the sweetest person anyone could ever hope to be with. But Blaise.. I need him as much as he needs someone to love him. I think he genuinely thinks he is worthless and it's not true. I love him. I barely know him, but I think we have something together,"  
  
Tears shone in her wide eyes but did not spill. A faint smile touched her lips and she nodded slowly.  
  
"Then I wish you well. I won't lie.. I am sorry we had to break up, but if he is that important to you, then.. I wish you both well,"  
  
"Thank you Ginny," I wrapped my arms around her and tasted the faint, cinnamon scent of her clouds of fiery hair. I prayed fiercely that no-one else would ever hurt her as I had had to. She deserved so much better. But now I had other things to do. I felt her draw back and smile bravely. "Night," she whispered and padded quietly off to bed.  
  
I collected my invisibility cloak and left the room. I had to find Blaise by midnight and make him mine.  
  
- - - - - - -  
  
Blaise was there in the tower already, lounging against a wall in a pool of silver moonlight. Candlelight kept respectfully away, casting him into darkness. My heart leapt.  
  
"Potter," He acknowledged me neutrally and stood up straight. Waiting for my answer. I smiled. Hopefully this would persuade him he was more than a slut.  
  
I took a deep breath. "I did it, Blaise. I've left Ginny,"  
  
He turned away from me. I waited expectantly for his response and...  
  
Blaise was... laughing.  
  
I didn't understand, but his thin shoulders shook with laughter. He had never laughed before and he sounded.. malicious. A thin trickle of icy water seemed to slither through my euphoria. "Blaise?" I asked him uncertainly.  
  
"You're pathetic, Potter"  
  
He turned to face me and I saw a cold smile dance across his pale features. A sick sense of dread sank through me as I saw him. Blaise's eyes were darkened with smouldering hatred as he spat ice-cold venom.  
  
"I know you love me. I knew all along that you'd crawl a thousand miles over broken glass to watch me undress before you. I knew you'd drop the Weasley bitch in a heartbeat for me, if I asked you to. I knew that you'd climb the highest mountain just to masturbate in my shadow. And what a fool you've made of yourself. You gave up the *best thing that ever happened to you*, all over me. Gave up someone like Ginny Weasley for a quick-fuck slut! Potter, you amaze me,"  
  
The pure hatred in his usually sweet voice hit me like cyanide-spiked pink lemonade. Could he possibly be serious? I tried to speak, but the words choked and died before they left my throat. Heat rushed to my cheeks as I stumbled over the simplest words "Blaise.. why... what are you saying?"  
  
"You don't get it, do you?" His eyes shone bright and I saw a tiny swirl of purple dance deep in there, the only colour I had ever seen in Blaise. "I *used* you, Potter. You lost Ginny all because of me. You seriously thought that I would ever want to be with a Gryffindor. Did you think we'd settle down and have a nice little house? I could bake cookies while you were out capturing my former house members? Forget it, Potter. You lost everything- your friends, Ginny, your dignity.. all because of me,"  
  
Blaise's voice was as cold as ice, as cold as *life*, and it pierced me to my core. He swept his black sheet of hair back gracefully. His too-thin frame was straight and steady beneath his loose robes. "That's what happens when you fall in love with a whore," He said coolly and with that parting shot, swept from the room. The candles dipped in salute and then the tiny flames died and I was left alone. 


	9. lets shoot tomorrow

Author's Notes- Again, many thanks to my reviewers, especially Demia and Cho. I was seriously considering abandoning this because it didn't look as though anyone was particularly interested.  
  
Disclaimers- Haven't bought the characters since my last disclaimer. Still only own the plot.  
  
Warnings- Fairly mild slash sex scene coming up. It's not really explicit and sex IS allowed on R ratings, but if you can't handle it, please turn back now. I haven't under rated this fic at all.  
  
I was shaking. I stood there for almost an hour. It began to rain, icy water sluicing over my shivering form. Tears came at last, but they were no warmer than the rain itself. Blaise hated me. I hated him for what he had done. To me, and to himself. I walked slowly to where he usually sat when he waited for me in the tower and slowly lowered myself to the ground where he usually was. I hoped to feel his ghost, a tracing of his presence left there from all the times he had visited. Nothing at all. I couldn't feel the faintest hint of his thoughts from the space his weird, deranged brain had occupied. Perhaps if I sat there long enough, I'd begin to read the ghostly patterns left in the air from his thoughts and read into his iced- over soul. Perhaps I could feel the path of his very dreams and the chemical reactions that made up his world. Perhaps. I shook my head and stood unsteadily. I couldn't sit here like this.  
  
I went to the common room. Alone again, naturally. There was the seat Ginny had occupied waiting for me. Now I knew how bitter the rejection must have been for her. At least I hadn't enjoyed seeing her pain as Blaise had enjoyed mine.  
  
So what was there left now? Blaise didn't believe my promises, or perhaps he was happy the way he was. Maybe I should never have swept in with my elabourate ideas of healing him or having a proper relationship. Maybe I should have fucked him and left, instead of falling in love. I stared moodily into the fire. A bitter, cold kind of rage was beginning to replace sadness. I preferred it. Better to learn to hate someone than to hate yourself for not being able to save them. Maybe I should leave it. Blaise was too cynical and too far-gone to ever want a relationship. I wasn't a hero. I couldn't save anyone. Perhaps he was even happy in his depraved little world. Perhaps.  
  
I woke the next day with a bitter rage still smouldering. I knew perfectly well once it evaporated I'd feel lower than ever. But this was good, it was real, I could direct it instead of wallowing in depression. Again, a day of missed lessons. I went to the forest and wandered all day. No monster approached me- none would have dared. My wand spat greenfire and cleared the forest before me. I imagined Blaise laughing at me again. Perhaps he was curled up with Flint even now, telling him about that stupid Gryffindor that dared to fall in love even as Flint fucked him into the ground.  
  
As evening fell, I headed back to the castle. Ignored my friends. Hermione looked worried. She caught my arm and directed me to a quiet corner of the common room.  
  
"I heard you've left Ginny," She said quietly. There was no judgement in her voice.  
  
"Yeah?" I replied moodily. Ginny looked up as though sensing her name. She smiled tentatively at me, unsure of where she stood. She still stood straight and unbowed, like the survivor of a war. Bruised, but not broken.  
  
"And you're with Blaise," She continued. "Harry.. something's wrong. Are you.. regretting it?"  
  
"No!" I snapped, then softened upon seeing the hurt look in her eyes. "I knew it was over between me and Ginny," I hastily explained. "But Blaise.. he lead me on, we were getting so close.. and then he just turned on me. Hermione, he enjoyed every bit of it,"  
  
She frowned. Her intelligent eyes glowed gold and chestnut in the light.  
  
"Maybe he's scared," She offered. "From what I've heard from Malka, he certainly sounds like he has issues with relationships and self-esteem. Please, try again. I think he does want to be with you.."  
  
"Hermione, you have no idea," I replied sharply. "I offered to give up *everything*, everything for him. And he threw it all back in my face. I've gave him all I could. There's nothing else to do.."  
  
"Harry-" Hermione looked concerned but I ignored it.  
  
"I'm going to bed," I growled and swung away from her, clattering noisily up into the dark dormitory.  
  
I lay in the dark for hours, still fuming over Blaise. I didn't want to lose touch with this anger, knowing what lay beneath. At last I pulled myself from bed and wrapped myself in the invisibility cloak. I knew where Blaise liked to wander at night. At this point I was unsure whether I wanted to hit him, tell him to fuck off, or have rampant sex over Dumebledore's desk. If only I'd stayed at the dormitories, maybe it wouldn't have all gone so horribly wrong.  
  
I stormed into the dark classroom Blaise often lurked at night. He'd sat there sometimes after a quick fuck, cigarette smoke wreathing him in blue whirls. I wanted to find him.. hurt him.. even though I couldn't possibly hurt him a tenth as much as he could hurt me with a few crushing words.  
  
He wasn't there. I stared into the shadows, shook my head and turned to leave.  
  
Just as Flint entered with Blaise's dark head resting on his shoulder.  
  
Shit. I stepped backwards as quietly as I could as he seemed to come right towards me. I sank against the wall and tried to control my feverish breathing. I had to get out of here. But as I stood, Flint muttered a quick locking charm and the door was sealed.  
  
I didn't want to stay. I didn't want to see Blaise like this. I didn't want any fragile delusions I'd spun of him loving me to disintegrate. But there was *no* way out. A sickening sense of nausea swept through me as I leaned heavily against the wall. The door was sealed. I could not very well ask Flint to unlock it- I knew what his reaction would be upon learning I had came here to see Blaise. I could not Apparate, there was no other escape that I could see. Whatever was to come.. I would witness. And I knew there would be no way I could simply close my eyes and turn away. The Boy Who Lived is still a boy, whatever people may think.  
  
Flint lit a handful of candles with a careless wave of his wand. They sputtered into cool silvery light, a light that suited Blaise admirably as it flooded the room and washed over his pale, luminous skin. His eyes were kohl-lined pools, absolute fathomless. He slid from under Flint's arm and gently pushed the older student towards a table. As Flint sat down obediently, I watched Blaise climb up onto his lap slowly. Two large hands slid around his tiny waist as they kissed briefly, one demanding, one willing. A tiny strangled sound escaped me as I saw Flint nuzzle Blaise's pale neck, then a trickle of blood as he bit down. This was what Blaise wanted, and what I could not give him?  
  
Flint wrapped his hands around the smaller boy and lifted him onto the table. "Undress," He grunted. Blaise slid his robes from one thin shoulder, let them fall casually to the floor. Nothing beneath. He was so thin.. even in our most amorous meetings I had never realised just how tiny he was beneath his robes. And now Flint was undressing, and there couldn't be a greater contrast. Even I, with my toned build and not inconsiderable height could dwarf Blaise. Flint was over 6ft3, bronzed skin rippling with muscles. He could crush the smaller student with ease. I tried to pull my eyes away from the scene, but I felt strangely compelled to watch, disgusted with myself all the time.  
  
I watched as Flint pushed Blaise down onto the smooth table. He seemed almost doll-like, limbs bending obediently as Flint's large hands roamed over him. Exquisite long legs moving aside as Flint nudged them open and licked a wet trail over his thin torso. I watched as one hand quested lower and Blaise's lips parted slightly as one thick finger twisted inside him. I couldn't help myself as I approached the pair of them, lying posed over the table like some dreadful tableau.  
  
Flint evidently decided that was quite enough preparation as he entered Blaise with a force that made me wince. There was a soft cry from Blaise, stifled hastily. Even for someone as used to this treatment as he, that had to hurt. I longed to stroke his soft feathery hair, to kiss away the faint look of pain as Flint vented his lust. But there was nothing I could do, even as Flint drove his slender body into the table with his intensity. I watched purple bruises begin to blossom on Blaise's shoulders from the older student's rough grip, watched Flint tighten his hands around Blaise's blood spattered neck and press down until he choked and writhed under the huge boy. He seemed to stare right through me as he twisted away from the suffocatingly tight hold, gasping for air, and I stepped back instinctively. There was a faint look of panic in his black eyes. I had never understood people who found auto-erotic asphyxiation a turn-on. Depriving your partner of oxygen, deliberate infliction of pain.. I watched as at last the relentless hold released as Flint came, hard and long. Blaise's hair whipped over his face as he turned away, breathing painfully. I could see a faint pattern of fingermarks across his skin, faintly purple in the silvery light. Flint pulled away and was already dragging his robes on. As his breathing regulated, I was amazed to see a faint smile play over Blaise's lips.  
  
Flint left. I watched Blaise dress himself slowly and sit quietly on the table where he had been fucked so mercilessly before. Was that what he wanted? I couldn't stop myself.  
  
I threw the robe from me and watched shock register as he realised I must have been there all along.  
  
"Potter, you fucking *pervert*-" He began. Violet swirls danced in his eyes, bruise-purple. Perhaps he had the right to be angry. But so did I.  
  
I didn't let him finish. "You fucking *whore*," I snarled. "I came here to talk to you, and I didn't have a fucking chance about what I saw. After everything you said to me, did you really think I'd just let it go? You're beyond pathetic, Blaise, you'll give it away to anyone for free. You were right. You *are* a cheap little slut and I never should have tried to convince you otherwise. That's all you ever be and all you ever will be," I watched his impassive face register shock as I spat venom. His eyes were huge, dark, scared.  
  
"You called me a fool for giving up the best thing that ever happened to me, but at the same time *you* turned down the best thing that could have ever happened to you. But I suppose I should thank you for showing me what you really are. You know what, Blaise? I don't want a cheap fucktoy that's been passed around every House before me. I don't think I want you at all. No-one really does,"  
  
I paused. He looked drained. I was actually having an effect. To see him hurt for once was a balm to my rage. I smiled as coldly as I could.  
  
"You're worthless,"  
  
He jumped up from the table and I waited for him to.. what? Retaliate? Hit me? Instead, he span around and took off in a whirl of light and shadows. I listened to his footsteps fade into the distance and felt the sudden spurt of anger drain from me.  
  
God, what had I done? 


	10. dash your heart against the rocks

Author's Notes- Last two chapters. Woo! Disclaimers- Still own nowt. And I forgot to mention it, but some of the chapter titles have been stolen from lyrics. Hehe.  
  
  
  
Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. I stood there for a while in the darkness, shifting indecisively. There was the heavy feeling of sex in the air, a faint tang of danger too. What could I do? Go to find Blaise? He wouldn't want to speak to me or even come near me now. How about if I asked a Slytherin? Yeah right, like they'd do anything for me. Go to Dumbledore? Shit, it couldn't be that serious, could it? Blaise wasn't the type to do anything stupid. He'd sulk, and then he'd run back to Marcus and we'd pretend we'd never spoken and everything would be ok... well, actually they'd be pretty sucky, but we'd be alive and everything.  
  
But I couldn't get rid of that feeling of unease I'd felt when I'd saw Blaise's face. He'd looked broken? Hurt? Shattered? Yes, that was it. Shattered. Like a perfect glass world had just came crashing down around him. The anger had gone, drained like an infected festering wound. Now I only felt guilt.. and unease. I had to find out how he was. I swung the invisibility cloak back around myself and took off towards the Slytherin common room.  
  
I fairly raced through the castle. Luckily there was no-one around. The portraits were silent, asleep in their frames. No ghosts drifted by to witness my flight. Down to the dungeon, and straight through the door. I already knew the password from the times I had visited with Blaise under the cloak. I knew I'd get him in trouble with the Slytherins for it, but I *had* to find out how he was.  
  
I threw aside the invisibility cloak as soon as I skidded to a halt on the cool stone floor. Instantly hostile eyes swung towards me, from every shadow and corner. No Blaise. Crabbe and Goyle were standing, nothing but silhouettes in the darkness but menacing none the less. Malfoy was sat a little way apart. He eyed me coolly, ready to unleash his pet henchmen at any moment.  
  
"I think you took a wrong turn, Potter," He drawled. Ice-white hair fell into steel-silver eyes. He reminded me of Blaise in so many ways and I wondered again what had happened in Draco's past that Blaise could not speak of. It didn't matter now. Draco was not my problem.  
  
"Where's Blaise?" I demanded. There was a sudden increase in interest.  
  
"Haven't seen him in a while. Why, isn't that Weasley scum putting out?" Malfoy smiled, standing in one elegant, fluid movement.  
  
"It's important," I snarled. "Has anyone at all seen him?"  
  
"What do you want Blaise for?" Flint. Ah. I was hoping I wouldn't meet him. He made Goyle look like a pixie and I stepped back cautiously.  
  
"If you care about him at all, tell me where he is," I replied as calmly as I could. "I can't tell you what's wrong. Just trust me for once,"  
  
Flint glared at me, eyes slightly confused.  
  
"You'd better not be making a move on him," He finally said. "He's mine,"  
  
"I don't care," I replied recklessly. How I lied. "Please, Flint,"  
  
He stared at me for a long moment and turned away. That was *it*? The other Slytherins seemed to lose interest. "Tell me!" I shrieked. They all walked away. Flint glanced back and cracked his knuckles. The threat was perfectly clear.  
  
"Harry," A calm voice from behind me. Torchlight lit her hair like a tongue of burgundy flames. Malka.  
  
"What's wrong?" She asked.  
  
I think your best friend might be in trouble. I think I've done something stupid. I think.. I'm scared..  
  
"I don't know," I said finally. "Just tell me anything you know about where Blaise is. It's important,"  
  
"I haven't seen him for a while," She replied softly. "But if it's important.. as in dangerous.. I know he has somewhere he goes when he wants to be alone. Do you want me to search with you?"  
  
"No!" I cried back as I span round and shot out of the common room. It was so obvious I had overlooked it. The tower. Where else would he go? Although surely he'd go somewhere I wouldn't follow.. I didn't have time to think. I ran back across the corridors, up countless stairs. The Hall was absolutely silent and dark. My breath came in ragged gasps, Hogwart's dusty magic- filled air searing my throat. I realised I had left the Invisibility Cloak in the Slytherin common room and I couldn't care less. All I could see was that last shattered look.. and he had been gone for perhaps a quarter of an hour. Why hadn't I came to the tower straight away?  
  
I fell on the stairs, hitting the sandy stone hard. There was a sharp burst of pure agony blazing across my knee. Blood spattered out onto the steps like spilled candy, welling up from a deep gash and spilling freely onto the floor. I thought I could see white bone. Shit. It was bad- really, really bad. But I didn't have time to stop and see to it. I bit my lip almost through as I pulled myself back up and raced onward. Torn ligaments protested and my leg threatened to buckle beneath me. Only a little higher, a little higher.. I lost my balance and fell into the wall hard. I pushed myself back off it and staggered up the remaining stairs. I couldn't let it slow me down. Why do you have to be so stupid, Potter? Why?  
  
I reached the top and almost lost my balance again. He was there, a shadow painted against a slightly lighter background of rain and night sky. Tempestuous wind swept his hair back as he stood.. stood right on the brink of the tower staring into the void below. I'd know he was.. frail, but I had barely let myself think it would come to this. At least he hadn't jumped yet. Maybe he wanted me to see. Maybe he was just scared.  
  
"Blaise!" My voice sounded a weak rasping parody of its usual self. I doubted he could even hear me over the drumming of the rain. The wind cut sharply to my core and I was suddenly aware of how thin, how fragile he was.. how easy to be swept over the edge. And how easy for him to simply step off.  
  
He span around, much too quickly. My breath caught. A simple stumble would send him backwards into infinity. I limped forward, one step, two steps and stopped. His eyes were bright and faintly deranged. He raised his hand.  
  
"Get back!" A sharp hiss. "I'll jump, Potter, you know I will,"  
  
"Blaise.. I didn't mean any of it.." My words spilled out and died there on the rain-slicked stone tower top. "I was angry.. please, don't jump," How inadequate.  
  
"Go away, Potter," He glared at me. "Forgot you saw anything. It will be over by the time you get back to the common room. Forget we ever spoke. You don't have to play the hero all the time,"  
  
"I'll leave you alone!" I cried. "I swear, I'll never come near you. I do think I love you.." Almost whispered, shyly, the words trying to lose themself in the driving rain. "But if that's what you really want.. I promise I won't bother you any more. Just step back from the edge. It's not worth it,"  
  
"What is worth it?" There was a faintly dreamy sound to his voice and his upturned eyes. "Not me. Not someone like me. You were right, Potter. I'm worthless. I did throw away the best thing that ever happened to me. I hurt the best person I ever met. But it won't matter any more,"  
  
He meant it. He actually did like me. My heart leapt wildly. "You haven't thrown me away. I still want it.. I want *you*. I didn't mean anything I said.. "  
  
"You did," He said quietly. "And it was all true as well,"  
  
"I meant it then," I admitted. "You hurt me pretty badly. But you forget I meant everything I said to you before. I told you I loved you. I meant that too, Blaise. I meant it far more than anything I might have said in haste,"  
  
He reflected. "I know you did. But maybe *I* don't love myself. Maybe I want this.." He trailed off and stared downwards quietly. My heart ached for him and I prayed to the God I was never quite sure existed. Let me win this, and I would find a way to help him. I didn't care how long or how hard. Another step. He didn't seem to notice. Just a few feet away. Could I grab him if he fell now? Another. I could see the sheets of rain breaking upon his skin, tiny beads caught in his eyelashes like diamonds shattering whenever he blinked. He glanced down. I followed his gaze and saw blood dripping from my wound and diluting itself in the cool rain.  
  
"You're hurt," I can't tell if he's actually concerned or trying to distract me. He's trembling. I taste copper in my mouth and realise I've bitten through my lip watching him balanced on the edge of the tower. Another step, slowly and carefully.  
  
"Get back!" He almost shrieked. I watched him shift as though to step back further. But there's nothing but air behind him, treacherous air full of cutting winter wind and blinding rain. Pale hands clench and unclench on the stormy air. I want to reach out and hold him, and he looks as insubstancial as a handful of shadows. I wonder if he'll simply slip away between my fingers like smoke or the dregs of a dream.  
  
And I wonder why he hasn't jumped. I can see he wants to. His eyes have turned the rot-purple they turn when he hurts. I hope there's something holding him back. Fear? No, I hope it is *me* binding him here.  
  
A sob shakes his shoulders. "Why do you have to make this so hard?" He sounds half-strangled and I wonder who he is talking to. Me? Himself?  
  
"I love you," Another step forward. His eyes close as he struggles with his dilemma. He sways softly. It could go either way now. Another step. Don't let him open his eyes yet, *I'm so close...*  
  
And then my arms are around him and I have him held tightly. He goes rigid with shock, trying to pull back, locked together above the void. A moment of resistance and I kiss him. His mouth tastes of tears and cool, clear water. I love him. I tighten my grip. If he has to fall, then I will fall with him. For a few seconds we stand there, on the verge of falling back through the darkness together. Then something gives way and he suddenly collapses into my arms holding on to me like a frightened child. I can feel something slightly warmer than rain against my shoulder. I always thought his tears would be as cold as liquid nitrogen and they'd freeze me to my heart as they touched me. I turn his face up. He looks drained still. Cold water running over the planes of his face, eyes huge and dark.  
  
"If you really want to jump, I'm going to go with you," I tell him gently. My arms around him. He could unbalance us both now and he knows it. But he doesn't, he collapses into my embrace and although I know it will be a long way to recovery, he's safe now. Life isn't a fairy tale and one kiss can't cure it all. I'm not a hero. Blaise isn't purely the poor victim. He made some of his choices. But as I nuzzle into his rain scented hair and gently turn him away from the tower edge, he holds on to me like a drowning man. However hard it may be, we can make it. 


	11. yours through sick and sin

Author's notes- Just finishing everything off now. I decided to make Flint seem more human in this chapter rather than make him a heartless bastard. Woo. This is the end, although I *do* have plans for a sort of follow-up using the same characters. It won't be a particularly happy piece, so feel free to think of it as AU rather than a real sequel. Huge thanks to anyone and everyone who has commented. I really enjoyed writing this.  
  
Disclaimers- Still not mine.  
  
We limp into the infirmary together. Neither of us feel quite capable of standing. Dumbledore is already there. Our entire affair was a secret between us two, therefore he knows all the sordid details. I wonder if he has an Invisibility Cloak of his own sometimes, I really do. He doesn't intefere with us too much. Madam Pomfrey frowns over my injury, prods it with her wand and then forces Blaise to swallow something a rather violent shade of purple. When I kiss him later, I can taste strawberries from whatever medication he swallowed. Blaise sleeps with me in the same bed, curtains drawn. There's no sex. We're too exhausted for anything like that.  
  
The next morning I awake before him. Blaise looks younger when he sleeps. Madam Pomfrey doesn't look at all startled to see us together although I feel faintly embarassed. Dumbledore sits beside the bed quietly and confirms what happened. He doesn't seem inclined to talk to Blaise himself. "You know best, Harry," He says simply. I nod.  
  
Blaise wakes at last. He was exhausted, poor thing. Ron and Hermione turn up. I feel even more embarassment- we *are* in bed together after all.  
  
"It's cool," Ron mutters, turning a deep crimson. It doesn't become him.  
  
"Actually, I think it's time we told them something too," Hermione says pointedly. Ron gulps.  
  
"Er, er, me and Hermione are together too," He stutters. I put on my best astonished-but-pleased look.  
  
"Really? That's amazing!" He beams and hugs Hermione enthusiastically.  
  
Ginny arrives shortly after and enters with Malka. She looks calm, perfectly at peace with us. Blaise and Ginny get on well. They chatter happily enough. I suspect everyone knows what happened for whatever reason, but they don't mention it. I can't help noticing how *close* Ginny and Malka seem anyway. They touch hands several times without seeming to notice. Well, they'd make a stunning couple with their willowy figures and flaming hair. Gryffindors and Slytherins go together so wonderfully.  
  
They leave. We dress. And as we're leaving, a less welcome person arrives. Flint. He towers over both of us, and our joined hands part instantly.  
  
"Come on, Blaise," He inclines his head slightly. Blaise doesn't move.  
  
"You can't be serious about Potter!" He looks appalled. "Come on baby, you know I'll forgive you if you've fooled around a bit. I'm sorry about whatever happened.. the tower-thing.. yeah, but it can be alright-" He looks confused and I feel sorry for him. Perhaps he really does have some affection for Blaise. Too late, and too little though. Poor Flint. He can't help anyone.  
  
"Come on," He holds his arms open. I think of Aunt Marge calling her favourite pet dog. Blaise shakes his head slowly.  
  
"Sorry, Flint," He walks back to me. We walk past Flint and leave him standing there, alone and confused. He wasn't the evil fairytale wizard. I suppose he wasn't much more than a rather over-possessive, sexually- frustrated boy with no idea of how to show affection or care for the people he loved. Not that different from many teenagers really. He leaves Blaise and myself alone for the last few months of the year anyway. Then he leaves, presumably to follow his life as a Death Eater, live terribly and die at the end of an Auror's wand. Like I said, I feel sorry for him. But you can't save everyone.  
  
So life went on. We finally slept together. And then again, and again. We're teenagers, we're allowed to do it five times a day. Malka and Ginny did get together. I couldn't help noticing how their hair clashed. They made an excellent couple anyway. Blaise immediately adopted Ginny as his other best friend for talking about "girl stuff" with. He really should have been born a woman. Not that gender makes any difference to me.  
  
We talked a lot. About life, and each other. I shared my deepest fears and insecurities. How close I'd came to suicide after Cedric died. How much I sometimes wanted people to remember the Boy Who Lived is still only a boy. He opened up about his own past. His parents were indeed death eaters, rather cool and distant and not particularly caring if important visitors chose to use their son. If it helped them to get what they wanted, his beauty could be an excellent tool in negotiations. He'd met Marcus that way. His father had been a regular visitor and had started bringing his son with him. Flint had only been a few years older than Blaise but they had started sleeping together even back then. When Blaise came to Hogwarts, he explained it had seemed easier to let things continue. Life was easier if you let people do what they want. I wanted to cry for him, but he didn't seem too bothered any more. It was in the past, after all. And when he'd came to Hogwarts, he'd had a choice. Perhaps he'd chosen badly but it didn't matter any more.  
  
We went to stay with the Weasleys over summer. It was terribly crowded there, with myself and Blaise and Hermione and Malka besides all the usual tribe. Mrs Weasley seemed delighted though. She immediately decided Blaise was in desperate need of a mother figure and spent much of the summer determinedly looking after him. He didn't object too much, although I rescued him when he had a "save me" look in his eyes as she tried to interest him in helping her bake gingerbread men or go shopping. That summer helped a lot. There were some scars that could never be erased entirely, but perhaps they could fade until they only troubled us in deepest nightmares. By the time we returned to Hogwarts, we both felt the past was well and truly over. We were in love, for the first real time. And although Blaise's dark eyes still seemed to suck in the light of the world, for the first time I thought I could see the light shining back out. 


End file.
